Page 23 of Best Frenemies

That old? Holy hell. I roll my eyes so hard it threatens to give me a headache.

“You think he’s married?”

“I sure as hell hope not. But honestly, if he is, I don’t kiss and tell.”

As they laugh and snicker about their moral emptiness, I climb from my chair and drop my book in my bag, destination anywhere but here.

Any more of this conversation and I might start to lose brain cells.Or get chest pain.

Without wasting another second of time, I grab my beach bag, dust off the bottom of it, and walk as far away from Mack Houston’s fan club as I possibly can.

Is it just me or does it suddenly feel like this is going to be one long-ass vacation?

Sunday, March 20th

Mack

As I finish brushing my teeth and doing the usual morning bathroom routine, my already sun-kissed face staring back at me in the mirror, I make a decision.

Today, I’m going to get in Katy’s good graces. For real.

I can dial up the charm and spin back the tendency to instigate, and I can get to know Katy Dayton on agenuinelevel.

Because, at this point, I think I have to.

Yesterday, by the time I got in from paddleboarding and took a quick shower to wash off the sea and sand, Katy was already in her room with the door closed and the lights out. It wasn’t even eight yet, and she’d officially called it a night.

And the only reasonable conclusion is that it’s me. I mean, I have a hard time believing this is her norm. I know some people like sleep more than I do, but what grown-ass adult goes to bed before the sun even sets?

It’s because she truly loathes you…

No.I shake my head.Not anymore.

Today, I fix it. Because there’s no reason that woman should be going to bed before old people hit early-bird dinners in the name of keeping her distance from me.

I leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen, “Determination” my newly christened middle name. I’m ready to rebuild bridges and balm wounds and cover myself with olive branches.

The only problem is that Katy is nowhere to be found.

I glance down the hallway and note that her bedroom door is open, a fair sign that she’s not in there, and if she’s not there, I don’t think she’s anywhere in here. This condo is spacious, but it’s not massive. If she were in here, I’d have seen her by now.

There’s half a pot of still-warm coffee in the coffeemaker on the counter, though, so I don’t imagine she’s been gone for long.

I open the fridge to all the groceries Katy bought. The old me would have grabbed one of the yogurts without thinking anything of it—because if the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t mind at all.

But Mack “Determination” Houston has the self-awareness to realize that I already drank her wine yesterday and agreed to an explicit rule about not consuming her food and drink without permission not long after.

My phone vibrates inside my board shorts pocket, and I pull it out hoping it has some kind of clue about her location. Not surprisingly, I’m not signed up for the Universal Notifications Subscription Plan.

Instead, it’s my cousin Thatch.

Thatch: I have three possible investors lined up for you already because I’m THAT good. We can all meet Wednesday. Lunchtime. My office. Don’t dress like a douche.

I’m quick to respond.

Me: I appreciate your hustle, T, and in this case, am even willing to stroke your massive ego. But I’m in Destin right now and won’t be back in New York until Saturday night. Can we meet next Monday after school hours?

Thatch: Is Destin potentially giving your foundation a shitload of money? Because if it’s not, get your ass on an earlier flight.

---